Snagging

Powows and sundances to a traditional Lakota are religious events not tourist attractions. In short if they charge admission the event is probably lacks authenticity. However if one can be found that is not tourist centered, spiritual change can happen. It happened to me.

Florence Blue Thunder had called and invited Stacy and I to the wacipi ( powwow) hosted by his family near Mission, Sd. Refusal was no an option as not many wasicus ( white eyes) were invited to this traditional family hosted event, So Stacy, her dogs and I bundled camping gear and clothes and headed south.

Dawn, the next day, came early, but I had risen earlier, Sitting alone under the pine boughed circle, I awaited sunrise. Slowly pink and gold light rose out of the canyon until the entire sky glowed; Awed by the beauty, I could hardly believe my eyes when an eagle shot across the sky. Thunderstruck, I stood up and stepped out to watch its flight though my cynical mind had to interject “ What a Hollywood moment.”

Turning to return to the car, I walked into a solid wall of flesh, Luther Little Dog. Think Graham Greene ( Dances With Wolves) but a bit taller. Not the drop dead handsome brave of romance novels, he was still a noticeable man if I had been of the mind to notice. “Mary, are you praying?” “ Nope, don’t do that too much anymore” “ Pray with me” and I did. Smudging sage, and offering corn meal to the four directions rather than a particular God., we ended by tying prayer cloths to the branches of a scrub pine, We parted in silence.

Hours later after an exhausting rabbit dance which I still firmly believe the Lakota invented to torture white eyes, I stood on the sidelines to watch the naming ceremony for a returned Gulf veteran. Along with Granny Moran who was related to half the people there, I observed rather than participated in the events. During the give away I received a blanket as well as plastic buckets and trinkets. This type of give away was always reserved for close family, and the gift surprised me.

“It’s a snagging blanket.” ,Luther’s voice whispered from behind me. “ A what?’ I asked. “ It will be useful tonight after the ceremonies. He said as he slipped away.”

Since he had not answered my question, I sought out Stacey. “ A snagging blanket!” she giggled when I asked her. “It comes from the time when a man courting a maiden would play the flute in front of her tipi and then stand wrapped in his blanket with one arm extended. If she walked into the blanket, they were married. Today it is usedwell, you know.” “ Hmoh! Not something I need to know about<” I snorted. My divorced, lonely but surviving attitude made itself know.

“Hey gal, simmer down. It doesn’t always mean the big S. It can mean let’s talk or simply you interest me. Don’t get all spinster prim and huffy.”

“OK Ok but it still is not for me!”

Under the stars after the ceremony I sat with granny Moran and other older aunties to listen to the drums and watch the people in their groups. Content once again to be on the sidelines, I was enjoying life in the only way I believed was left to meon the surface of it not an active part of it.

A flute song came closer to me. Granny Moran nudged me and using her lips in the Indian way pointed forward. Stacy’s astounded, “By golly!” made me look up. There Stood Luther wrapped in a blanket with one arm extended.

I could not move. I was stunned. He was inviting me to once again be a participant in life. He was daring me to chose to leave contentment and safety to dare to love again. The idea that he would confront me in such a way made me waver between anger and hope.

Just as I was about to refuse, he mouthed the words,” Just talking, girl.”

I walked back into the blanket and back into life.

Mary DeVries